


more still

by akissontitan



Series: The Adventure Asides [12]
Category: the adventure zone
Genre: Character Study, Gen, good feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 12:33:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10490973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akissontitan/pseuds/akissontitan
Summary: In Raven's Roost, the flowers bloomed in winter.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is for anyone who needs it, but especially Vero, Momo and GG. Good things will come.

In Raven's Roost, the flowers bloomed in winter.

They had to be resilient to survive the bitter wind and rain, but succulent enough that the dry air of the Old Hills region wouldn't kill them early.

Magnus used to walk past where children made braids of fresh peonies on his way to the grocer. Across the street to the bush of coral-bells intent on reclaiming a mud brick cottage wall, down to the market where an old woman sold the prettiest irises.

Back home, to where Julia hung drying lavender above the doorway. Wrapped in cheesecloth in their drawers. Infused into oils for Magnus' woodwork.

Flowers didn't grow at all on the moon.

He didn't feel the absence of them until he was visiting planetside, running errands or on a mission. He'd pause, by a sprig or field of pretty colours, not quite familiar enough to be _nostalgic_ , but enough to make his breath catch.

Sometimes, though, Merle will decorate the common area with a potted palm that has outgrown his bedroom, and the light from the stars make the fronds dance iridescent. It's calming. Then, Taako will chide him and kick the rug back over the exposed corner of the glass floor, and that's that. 

It's nothing like home, but in a new way, it's comfortingly homely.

After the Bureau, after _everything_ , Magnus settles into a smaller cottage than he's ever lived in before. Between the small rooms, the dogs, and his friends visits, it usually feels full enough.

On the days where it's _not_ enough, he fills time in town. He walks past fields of daffodils and daisies, and autumnal leaves brushing the ground in the breeze.

Down a cobblestone path where yellow dandelions grow between the cracks, into the laneway markets and eateries.

Past the gnome selling home-brewed cider, across from the cobbler who fixes his work boots at a discount. Through the alley where a slender, auburn-freckled Tiefling sits quiet with a new wincing customer on any given day, etching intricate designs into their skin.

Until, one day, instead of following through the walkway, Magnus pauses. A new parchment hangs from a line strung above the tiefling's tent, and the swirling shapes of black ink flora makes his heat stop.

The tiefling smiles at him, and though they say nothing, their dark eyes sparkle.

His walk finishes late that night. The dogs furrow their brows pathetically at the late dinner, and largely ignore the stiff way Magnus moves his left arm to retrieve their meat from the cold drawer. It's harder by leagues for Magnus himself to ignore it, but the lingering pain is nothing compared to his quiet excitement, and his pride, and his hope.

Lavender sprigs. Palm fronds. Dandelions. And room for more still.


End file.
